At some point, they took Minke for a CT scan. At 2 AM, the doc came back in. Blood work—normal. CT—normal. There were no signs of kidney stones or liver or gallbladder problems. No signs of appendicitis. It did show a distended bladder, and Minke said he’s been feeling bloated ever since the feeding tube insertion. The site of the incision for the feeding tube was fine. But was this the fault of the feeding tube???
So now what? The doctor said he didn’t think Minke was in danger, but wanted to keep him a little longer to rule out anything else.
At 3 AM, I could barely keep my head up. And I had Zelda to think about, and Molly, who kept saying she was fine, but did she ever expect THIS to be part of the job? I told Minke I needed to go home. I needed sleep; I could no longer function. He was agreeable, and I wanted him to stop talking and try to get some rest. I gave them my phone number, said I was THE WIFE and told them to call me when he was ready to be released.
Did I feel like a terrible spouse for abandoning him? You bet I did! But what about Zelda? She needed me too. She’s got severe separation anxiety and she was pretty freaked out when the EMTs came and took her dad, and then I left too. That little face in the window just about broke my heart.
And what about me? I couldn’t even walk straight. So Molly took me home.
Did I sleep? No. Did I eat? No. The first thing I did was take Zelda out. She greeted me like I had been gone a year. The house felt weirdly quiet and the empty hospital bed made me sob uncontrollably. I laid down on my own bed and Zelda cuddled next to me. A calming force, for sure. I fell asleep for about an hour.
At 6 AM, I called the hospital. They said they were waiting for medical transport for Minke, and Minke told them not to call me because he wanted me to get rest. Can you believe that? He’s having this excruciating night, and he’s still taking care of me. Unbelievable.
Two hours later when Minke still hadn’t shown up at home, I called again. They said he was waiting for a ride!!! Can you believe this? Holy shit. I could have gone and picked him up at 6 but thought he’d be home any minute. I felt sick to my stomach. I told them I was on my way.
I had to maneuver his power wheelchair into the van and then I sped to the ER as fast as possible. Isn’t it funny that when you go to a hospital there are a million handicapped spots, but they’re all taken? I parked illegally. Got into that power chair and whizzed on over to the ER. They let me go right in this time without having to walk through the security scanner. They did ask me if I had any weapons. Damn! I forgot to bring my hunting knife!
Minke was awake and sitting up. Startled to see me. He had been discharged 5 hours before, but no one came in to check on him or tell him what was up. He had to pee. He had no call button. He was treated like shit. Again. By our wonderful healthcare industry. When I rolled on in he said, “they forgot about me. For five hours!”
I don’t even know what to say anymore. It seems when we tell people Minke has ALS they look at us as if we’re from another planet. INCLUDING HEALTHCARE WORKERS. I cannot understand this. I will never understand this. It truly makes me want to puke.
We finally got home by 10:30 Tuesday morning. With Molly’s help the night before, we managed to cancel 3 of the 4 appointments that were scheduled that day. But when Minke phoned the 4th appointment person, he insisted he was more than 1/2 way to our house and he would come anyway. After being told Minke had spent the night in the ER, HE WAS COMING ANYWAY!!!!! What is wrong with people?
So, another surreal moment … Minke, in a hospital gown, sitting on the commode in the middle of our living room, and this guy comes in and wants to install something in our bathroom that we needed 6 months ago. We no longer need it because Minke can no longer stand or be able to use it, and this guy proceeds to talk and talk and talk about how he can help us. He’s very handy, blah, blah, blah, make changes here and there, and it will be so much better than what we have and SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!
When Minke, being quite polite in front of this dude, asked me what I thought, I told them both exactly what I thought. “With all due respect, sir, I’ve been up all night. I’m not operating on all cylinders and I cannot think about this right now. We both need sleep. And privacy. And we will let you know.”
The guy said he understood, and after thanking Minke for his service he left. And we were alone. Finally. Just the 3 of us.
I got Minke back into bed (I haven’t told you yet about the overhead lift versus the Hoyer lift—it’s a game changer and a lifesaver. I’ll tell you next post.) I did a little clean-up, took my pup for yet another walk, and then, FINALLY, to bed. I slept about 2 hours before Zelda woke me up to go out again.
My friends, my ass is draggin’! I am no spring chicken, and this life … this so-called life is aging me faster than a 1970s Polaroid picture in the sun!!
Don’t think you have all the answers by telling me I need to get a dog walker. We’ve tried it before; a couple of times. Zelda will not have it. My friend Nancy told me to think of rescue dogs as special-needs children. Zelda definitely has special needs. I wouldn’t give her up for a zillion dollars, but there are times she can be difficult and exhausting.
Minke also has special needs. So here I am, in the third act of my life, caring for the most special creatures I have ever known. I have lost myself along the way somehow. But maybe that’s the point. I’ve been focused on myself for far too long; now it’s time to give to those who need me most. Minke and Zelda. They are the loves of my life. But I am bone-tired. And that’s just the way it’s got to be.
